Spoons
by TheShmurfs
Summary: The ongoing feud between the Marauders and Snape is escalating at an eyewatering pace. Prank after prank after prank... don't these boys ever get tired?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: There are two authors of this fic, and we hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it. This first chapter is written from the perspective of James Potter.

* * *

'BLACK!' I bellow up the stairs. 'GET YOUR ARSE IN GEAR BEFORE I COME UP THERE AND DO IT FOR YOU!" 

I check my watch impatiently. Sirius, forever eager yet never punctual, is _still_ faffing around upstairs.

'You keep away from my backside, Potter,' comes the reply as Sirius glides down the banister clutching a bright yellow bucket that seems to be emitting some fairly ominous sounds. Remus comes hurrying down the stairs soon after, closely followed by Peter who almost tumbles head-first into the Common Room with enthusiasm.

Sirius grins at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. It's a good job there's not too many girls present at this current time, because I think Sirius could have knocked them out at this point.

'Phase One is in motion. So meet you at the Slytherin Common Room?'

I nod at him and return the grin. 'Two minutes.'

Sirius practically bounces off out of the portrait hole.

* * *

'Boo!' I say, jumping out from behind the corner.

Snape lets out a squeal.

Peter giggles. Remus is much more subtle about his laughter, choosing to express his glee through taking a bit of his everlasting chocolate bar. I know him too well.

Looking rather red in the face, Snape whips out his wand.

'Get out of my way, Potter.'

'Erm… Nah, I don't feel like it.'

'I said, get _out_ of my _way_,' Snape repeats with added menace.

'Don't ruin the fun, Snivellus!' I lean casually on one of the many statues, which moves for my convenience.

'Oh yes, I'm having such a _wonderful_ time,' Snape sneers. 'Move, Potter.'

'Don't make me fork you to death here and now,' I sigh dramatically, miming the prodding of Snape with a suitably pointed piece of cutlery. I'm a pretty good actor, if I say so myself.

'I'd cut your heart out with a _spoon_, Potter,' he spits at me.

I carefully wipe the saliva from my eyes.

'A little less spray would be appreciated next time, Snivellus. I already had a shower this morning.'

'Unlike some,' sniggers Peter.

Snape opens his mouth, evidently trying to form an appropriately sardonic riposte, but nothing comes out and he is left standing there gaping like a great big tuna.

I smile triumphantly and nod at the ceiling.

Snape gives me a funny look and looks up to see what I'm nodding at.

'NOW!' I yell, and the yellow bucket, which had, until now, been keeping quiet in Sirius's arms as he stood - surprisingly just as quietly - waiting on the balcony, tips upside-down onto Snape's head and explodes with colourful sparks. The miniature fireworks pop and hiss as they entwine themselves in Snape's hair.

Snape shrieks.

The portraits on the walls watch with mild interest as he runs the length of corridor, screaming, with his head on fire and his arms flailing wildly just like in all the cartoons. Remus attempts to stifle a laugh, but his mouth is so full of chocolate, he unfortunately begins to choke instead.

'You have no idea how much willpower it took for me to stand directly above Snivellus' head, armed with a bucket of fireworks, and not drop it on him,' says Sirius.

'Worth the wait though, right?' I grin at him.

Sirius simply gives a gleeful cackle in response. Remus continues to choke. Peter is running away from a stray Catherine wheel that somehow managed to detach itself from Snape's greasy head. 

'Don't let it touch you, Pete!' Sirius calls after him. 'It might infect you with the Permanent Greasing Charm that Snape seems to have been eternally cursed with.'

'Permanent Greasing Charm… Now there's a prank even we haven't tried yet,' I say thoughtfully. 'Lads, I think we've just found our Phase Two.'


	2. Chapter 2

Damn that jumped up Potter.

I honestly would love to cut his filthy heart out with a spoon. It would be suitably painful.

I finally managed to put out those damn fireworks before anyone saw me.

But now I look distinctively scorched. I'm going to get them back.

I've got several potion books out now and I think I've found one that will make a suitable revenge.

'Alright, Sevvy?' Bellatrix must choose now to appear. And, why must people use every little thing of my, admittedly, pitiful life, against me?

'Shove off, Bella,' I hiss.

'My blood traitor _cousin_ been giving you a hard time again?' She practically spits the word 'cousin' and I can almost see the disdain dripping from her tongue.

'You don't know the half of it,' I mutter.

'Bella!' comes Rodolphus Lestrange's voice. Good God. I really wish he could keep his tongue in his own mouth for just a minute.

'What happened to you, Sev?' he laughs. _LAUGHS_. Idiot.

'Potter,' I snarl.

'Oh right.' He doesn't sound in the least bit interested.

'That's it,' I shut my books. 'I'm going.' If I wanted to make myself vomit, I'd go and watch Pettigrew eat. Not endure Bellatrix and Rodolphus.

I made the potion last night. It was pretty easy to make. Well, I thought it was. Anyway, the result should be good. VERY good.

It's been a couple of days and nothing regarding Potter, and his, what he calls friends, has happened.

They're planning something. I couldn't give a scaly rat's arse to be frank. I've got my potion.

'I know that smirk, Severus.' Narcissa reaches over my breakfast for the jam.

I smile grimly. I think I pull those sorts of looks off well.

'What have you done?' she asks, looking over at Potter and his friends who are attempting to make music with their spoons. Freaks.

'Just wait.' As if on cue there are four sudden, loud pops from the Gryffindor table.

I found a way to slip my potion into their drinks. Ah, revenge is sweet.

'WHAT THE HELL?' Potter screams.

Pettigrew gives a shrill cry and falls from the bench.

Lupin chokes on his stupid chocolate. He does that a lot…

And Black just looks simply horrified.

Everyone is looking at them now, sat there 1 foot tall with the spoons they were just holding stuck to their midget hands.

That was a bit I added to the potion myself. They would be stuck to whatever they were holding at that moment.

'I take it this is your work, Severus?' Narcissa is smiling and Bellatrix, on her other side, is laughing outright.

'Of course,' I say as laughter rings through the Great Hall. Even Dumbledore's laughing now. Although quietly. McGonagall looks a bit annoyed but amused.

This is great! If I had known this would be the reaction I would have made this potion ages ago. I might keep the leftovers. Just in case.

It'll take a lot for the infamous 'Marauders' (how pathetic, they name themselves) to live this down.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get finished! I'm rather pleased with this chapter though; hope the wait was worth it!

* * *

"Prongs, would you quit it already? You're poking me – OW –in the eye."

"Well, I can't help it, can I? I'm just trying to get under the cloak, same as you,' James complains, still groping the air uselessly.

"We're here!" I whip the Cloak off my head and narrowly evade James' palm in my face.

"It's hopeless trying to hide us all under the Invisibility Cloak any more," says Remus, appearing next to me. "We're all fat, ugly lumps now, you can see our feet poking out from underneath."

"Speak for yourself, Moony. 'Fat', 'ugly' and 'lump' are the last words that spring to one's mind at the thought of _me_." I run a hand through my hair. It falls flawlessly back into place. I give James' resentful expression a toothy grin.

"How are we supposed to walk around without drawing attention to ourselves when we have _this_ thing?" asks Peter, also popping out of thin air carrying a glowing green jar a good arm's length away from himself.

"Careful with that!" I warn, snatching our precious jar off him and cradling it in my arms. "A little TLC is all our baby needs. I'm not having you abusing it like it's a Blast-Ended Skrewt covered in Dungbombs."

"It might smell better if it were covered in Dungbombs."

I am horrified.

"Peter Pettigrew, you disgust me. Henrietta smells_ gorgeous_." I waft the jar of fluorescent green paste under Pete's nose.

He gags and splutters. "Urgh! Sirius, that reeks!"

"_Henrietta_ reeks," corrects James (rightly so, might I add).

"Fine, whatever. _Henrietta_ smells like the back end of a hippogriff. And there's something _floating in her._"

James grins sheepishly. "That may have been my fault. I was trying to stir her but Henrietta wasn't in a very cooperative mood."

"So I wouldn't recommend dangling any stray fingers anywhere near her hole." I look meaningfully at the wooden spoon suspended in the goo.

Peter looks faintly repulsed. "Sirius, that sounds so wrong."

I grin at him. "You know you love her really, Pete. Besides, you'd better start getting used to her. She is a vital ingredient in our most excellent plan."

"Not that this 'most excellent' plan is ever going to come to fruition at the rate we're going," mutters Remus. "I'm bored. Going to bed."

I roll my eyes. "Some people are so unappreciative of witty banter," I say, hauling him back and giving him a shove through the portrait hole. "Oh well, if you're that impatient to wreak havoc, I suppose we can forgive you."

* * *

"Just whistle while you work," I whistle happily to myself, slapping a globule of goo on the wall.

"Padfoot. Shut up."

"Doo do doo-do doo-do doo—"

"You're going to wake Snape," Peter hisses, glancing fearfully over at Snape's earmuffed head.

"Heigh ho, heigh ho—"

"Sirius." Remus looks at me seriously. "If you don't shut up now, I'm going to shove Henrietta down your throat and make you shut up for good."

Though I consider the prospect of Remus causing any degree of harm to anybody a physical impossibility, I think better of the singing. Save my angelic voice for people who appreciate it, and all that.

"Er… maybe I should've brought this up a bit sooner, but how do we plan on getting out of here if Snape and co are going to be stuck?" asks Peter.

"Ah, good question, my dear Peter," says James. "Luckily, we too anticipated this problem, which is why we have… these!"

James pulls out four pairs of silver boots from a surprisingly small carrier bag and holds them up in triumph.

Remus raises an eyebrow. "They look a bit… camp."

"Camp?" I ask incredulously. "CAMP? These are the most effective Anti-Teflon boots on the market. See those suction pads? Best in the business. You and your prejudices, Moony, shame on you."

"Oy vey." Remus shakes his head and returns to gooifying Snape's bedside table.

"Might as well get these on now, lads," says James, pulling on a boot. "Make as quick and dignified a getaway as possible, that's my philosophy."

"Which it won't," I add confidently. I check that the earmuffs are still securely fastened around the heads of our dear Slytherin counterparts though. Just in case.

* * *

"If I can just get this last bit out…"

We watch James shaking the jar in vain, trying to tip the last slivers of goo out. Henrietta doesn't budge.

"Henrietta, come _on!_"

James is nearly crying with the effort, poor bloke. James and stubborn females. Sounds familiar.

"Come on, Jimmy." I lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's over. You did your best. There's nothing more we can do."

"Bugger off," James scowls, chucking the jar at me.

"Sounds like a plan," I reply with a grin. "Buggering off it is!"

We heave our feet off now glistening floor, struggling against the suction pads.

"Maybe 'best in the business suction pads' aren't such a great idea after all, Padfoot," suggests Remus. Smug git.

After what feels like an aeon, we reach the door to freedom.

"Crap," curses James. "Whose bright idea was it to grease the door handle?"

Peter looks away. I half expect him to start whistling.

James sighs and tugs off his left boot. Carefully attaching one of the suction pads to the handle, he pulls open the door.

"Genius, Prongster," I commend as James hops through onto non-Henriettafied territory, the other two hopping behind.

"Nighty night, Snivellus," I say softly, closing the door. "Have fun, Henrietta."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: The last time we updated this was a YEAR ago. It is shocking, I know, I fail at commitment! but I did finally get round to writing the fate of Snape after the Marauders' late-night visit to the Slytherin dormitories... Enjoy! :D

* * *

My ears feel oddly warm.

This is the first thought that springs to mind when I wake. The musings that usually cross my mind first thing in the morning are generally rather dull. This is a new one.

I yawn and reach for my wand, intending to cool my ears down with some sort of ice-cubes-popping-out-of-the-the-wand charm. I blindly pat the bedside table to feel for the handle but as I grab it, it slips right out of my hand and falls on the floor. I sigh. I get the feeling today is going to be a bad day.

I swing my legs out of bed and go to pick it back up. But as soon as I transfer my weight to the floor, something under my foot causes me to go flying across the room – one foot grounded and the other mid-air – and bang face-first into the wall. Unfortunately, my nose then slides down the wall and I end up spread-eagled with an up-close view of the Slytherin dormitory floor.

Even when I gingerly try to arrange myself into a slightly less ridiculous position (on hands and knees), my arm gives way and I once again find myself gliding across the room, this time face-down, before finally colliding with a bed post.

But the impact between the bedpost and the side of my head is cushioned by something soft. Something pink. Something fluffy. As I slowly begin to understand the reason for my overly warm ears, I also notice that the Slytherin door has at some point during ym impromptu acrobatics been forced open, and now a sea of faces look down at me with glee. But how in Merlin's name did they manage to hear the noise from the other side of school? And how did they force the door open? This whole situation is completely implausible!

Even through the earmuffs I can hear much laughing and jeering. I whip the surprisingly comfortable earmuffs off my head to interject a witty comeback. However, the movement propels me backwards into the flailing arms of Lucius Malfoy, who the moment before had conveniently decided to drag his carcass out of bed to try and threaten the crowd with his precious prefect badge, and instead been subjected to the same fate as me. We lie, helpless on the floor, with Malfoy clutching me to him as though I am some sort of giant, very uncuddly teddybear.

'Snape,' he hisses in my ear. 'What. The. Hell.'

'Spooning now, are we?' says a disturbingly familiar voice from amidst the crowd at the doorway. 'I had no idea you two had taken your relationship to the next level!'

A bespectacled face topped with the bird's nest it calls hair appears among the bobbing heads, grinning. My blood hits boiling point. I should've known.

The head of James Potter, followed by the three other equally hateful heads of his cronies, pushes its way to the front.

Black gazes smugly around the room and mutters something that sounds a lot like, 'Henrietta, you did us proud.'

'Thank you all for coming to see the show!' Potter announces to the spectators. 'If you like what you see, we will be selling 150 gram jars of Permanently Greasy Grease in the Gryffindor Common Room this morning! Only 5 sickles a jar!'

'You,' I spit out, glowering at Potter whilst simultaneously trying to prise Malfoy vice-like grip from my waist. 'I am… I just… I will…'

'Oh Snivellus, you'll get over that stammer of yours one day,' says Black in a maddeningly patronising tone. 'Just remember: slow and steady wins the race…'

I feel as though I am about to explode with rage. But explosions are really quite difficult when the slightest movement will only result in further humiliation, and when you have a Lucius Malfoy welded to your back. I have to settle for trying to bore holes into Potter's skull with my death stare instead.

It does not work quite as effectively as I hoped.

'Well, we're going to have to leave you two lovebirds to it,' says Potter, backing back down the corridor like the coward that he is. 'Sad though it is that we can't stay and watch you try to get out of this, there is money to be made. Besides, I am rather keen on leaving before you two get overexcited and start making out.'

There are giggles from the crowd. I death stare at them all. The revenge for this is going to be a big one.


End file.
